In Sickness and In Health
by blueroseulan
Summary: They should be living in their makeshift ever after by this time. But old sins cast long shadows and seven deadly illnesses threaten the life of the boy with the bread. She realizes this is part of their games as well, but she's determined to protect him and to stick to her wedding vows of seeing him through sickness and health.


May 6

A/N: I don't own Hunger Games or the characters.

This was originally a oneshot. But the fluff bunny grew and grew in my head so this one"s going to be a multi-chaptered fic. Of course, that still depends on the reviews I get. ^^. This chapter lays down the basic plot line for the story and establishes where the characters are emotionally.

Good god, if I don't stop now this author's note is going to be longer than the story itself. ;;

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There is something about the starkness of white washed walls and the sharpness of hospital disinfectant that pilfers any trace of energy and positivity in the mind and leaves nothing but floating emptiness.

She sits silent and unmoving on the cold hard floor, arms wrapped around her legs, grey eyes blank and glassy. It is not until the cold muddy heel of Haymitch`s boot clucks against her heel that she stirs.

"He`s out of the woods. Get up Sweetheart, the doc wants to talk to you."

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_Real or not real. Snow`s dead and the rebellion`s over. _

Nurses with clipboards and medical kits scamper about the room, checking monitors, recording vital signs, adjusting IVs as she is ushered to the door where Doctor Aurelius stands tentatively.

_Real or not real. They had slowly begun to pick up what was left of their lives after the games, the war, everything. _

"Katniss." His voice is strangely calm, underlined with the faintest trace of genuine concern. His hand gingerly comes up to touch her arm when he realizes her gaze is intently trained upon his patient. "Katniss, I need you to focus." He is professional, and yet familiar.

_Real or not real. The two of them were happy. _

"Will he be okay?" She wants to ask him what`s wrong, but knows she cant ask him that—because so many things had been wrong in the first place and his patients have been so broken and so beyond repair that to ask what was wrong would simply fall under the category of rhetorics.

He clears his throat and mops his forehead with a pinstriped handkerchief.

"For now he`s safe. Although Katniss…"

He`s been a doctor in the Capitol for nearly three decades now, and he`s used to breaking bad news. It`s not been a walk in the park, never will be, but he`s used to accepting the finality that comes with the terms; he`s convinces himself that he`s trained for this, yet when she looks up to him, her face pulled so tense and eyes cloudy with fear-something scratches at his throat.

"There`s a big chance that he wont survive this."

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Tick tock tick tock. Time is ticking.

_She remembers how deliriously happy they were, and how she, for the first time in years, have felt ridiculously giddy in his arms as he swirls her around the meadow, dandelion seeds flying around them in thin wiry wisps, his fingers on her face, her lips on his neck. If the tale of the starcrossed lovers from District 12 had been something of a legend, then at that moment, she realizes, this would have been the perfect storybook ending for them. _

Tick tock tick tock. Time cannot be stopped.

_Her pulse is a quick staccato against his. She`s gasping for breath as she leans onto him, the words tumbling from her lips. "You`ll always be with me, real or not real?"_

_She remembers what happens next with the exact vividness that forces her to relive the horrors of watching her loved ones blow up with pods, fall in the clutches of mutts, burst into flames. _

Tick tock tick tock.

_When he doesn't move, a frown gathers in her features. She whispers his name. _

_And in response, his steps falter, his knees buckle to the ground and blood gushes from his lips. _

Tick tock tick tock. Time is running out.

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Old sins cast long shadows.

Her father used to tell this to her, particularly when he taught her how to hunt. She knows this lesson well. The town had to survive without deer meat for months when she took out a buck for the first time. Never do something that would have irreparable damages.

He lies unmoving on the bed with long thin tubes inserted on his arms. Pale, gaunt; but the monitor beside him announces that the short rasps that leave his lips are that of life. Katniss knows she should be grateful for this, but she also knows that this boy, her boy with the bread, is also so, irreparably damaged. She remembers the doctor`s words.

"_The venom of the tracker jacker has started to spread in his body. At this point, its progressed from not being only psychological, to that of being a real physical threat. With what the symptoms are showing, any number of things can happen now: the collapse of his immune system, paralysis, internal bleeding, organ failure. I`m not saying this would all happen at once, but Katniss, ultimately, that heart of his would stop."_

Irreparable damages. Tracker Jackers. Organ Failure. Old sins. Stopping Hearts.

She is sobbing by the time she is by his side.

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He refuses to stay in the Capitol. In the place where the most up to date hospital apparatuses are invented on a day to day basis and the most prolific medical researches prosper, he insists on going back to old fashioned12. Doctor Aurelius is baffled. She is baffled—even Haymitch is baffled. His answer is simple:

"Katniss wants to go home."

And this argument has gone on for days that it`s come to the point where Katniss is torn on throwing her arms around him and sobbing in gratitude, or hitting him senseless for his perpetual unselfishness. In the end though, when she arrives at the hospital room and finds him seated on the bed, still pale, still fragile, clutching a little checkered suitcase and waiting for her, she takes his face in her small calloused hands and places a chaste kiss on his lips. _Thank you. We`ll survive this._

"I`m going to take care of you."

_I love you._

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His first few days upon his return to 12 are marked by a flurry of activities; Paylor has seen to it that Peeta is as medically provided as possible and they`ve mapped out a routine with the doctors from the Capitol who`d try to work on his recovery. She tries to appear calm, in control of herself and of the situation, but her fingers start shaking when the medical apparatuses they`ve ordered straight from the Capitol arrive in her house. She fights the rise of nausea in her throat as she watches medical men install monitors and scales on her walls and floors.

"Katniss?" A pale arm wraps itself around her shoulders and she sighs. "I`ll take care of you." This has become a mantra in her head now, something of a creed that she`s resolved to live by. He laughs, "I thought that was my line?"

Her answer is a shrug as she tucks him to bed, under the heat insulated blankets that would help protect him from chills. "You need to rest. Sleep, I`ll watch over you. I`ll take care of you Peeta." She says it with finality, with the strength and the determination that he`s known she`s possessed ever since their first reaping and he knows better than to argue with the resolve of a certain Katniss Everdeen.

"Yes ma`am!" he chides sweetly, albeit sleepily as the effects of the Doctor Aurelius` medicines start taking effect. When he reaches out to pat the space beside him, she hesitates for a second. She wants to tell him she has to oversee the billings of his medications, secure the next batch of supplies from the next trains. _And wallow in fear and guilt, and still fear because all I know is I`m so scared and I`m so terrified that something will go wrong and losing you is not an option—it never has, and it never will be._ But she doesn't tell him this. Instead, she climbs next to his side surrenders in the comfort of his arms. She`s done playing Brave Nurse Everdeen for the day.

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The first time his temperature leaves him unconscious and in delirium, she is by his bed side for days, holding his hand and wiping his forehead with a cool cloth. On the third day, Sae has to literally pry her fingers off his hand and force her to eat. Only when the fever finally breaks and some sense of calm has crossed his features does she allow herself to forego short restless naps and hesitantly reward herself with the luxury of sleep.

Some days, she wakes to hear him retching on the sink, and instantly she is by his side, rubbing soothing circles on his back, wiping the sweat from his forehead. She cradles his panting form to her and the both of them slide to the cool bathroom tiles as she holds him fiercely. Her fingers find his, as her lips settle on his temple. _You`ll be okay… we`ll be okay. I`ll take care of you. _

One night, she finds him gathering clumps of tissue in his makeshift studio beside her room.

"Peeta, are you alright?" He seems keen on disposing said snuff cloths from her sight. He turns to her and smiles her warmly. "Perfectly fine Nurse Everdeen!" he jokes cheerfully—too cheerfully, and said smile falters when a clump falls from his hands and her eyes are instantly on the red stained cloth.

"Just a nosebleed." he starts resignedly, "Katniss, I`m fine." The tremor in his voice makes it obvious that both of them aren't convinced. What she does next is so unexpected and he`s completely unprepared for it.

"You had a nosebleed and you wanted to hide that from me!" her fingers are on his arms with vice like grips and he`s horrified to see tears forming in her eyes. "You`re not allowed to do that Peeta." she`s shaking now. "You cant hide things from me. You have to tell me what`s happening. I have to know." Her knees buckle to the ground and with a grip so strong, she brings him with her to the floor. "I have to know so I can take care of you. I have to take care of you! I have to Peeta." her eyes are no longer ablaze with anger, instead, she is now sobbing in his arms, repeating the same words all over and over again. Entrapped in her own horrible world, where her fears have gladly taken over any pretense of strength, she clings to him desperately.

He waits for the storm to pass, rocking her, murmuring words of comfort and apologies. It is only when her sobs finally stop that he moves the both of them to the bedroom and settles himself beside her.

"I`m sorry. I know we`re not supposed to keep secrets from each other." His words are muffled in her ear as she flips to face him, a scowl on her face. "Yes! Especially now that you`re .. you`re…"

"Terminally sick?" He offers helpfully, although there`s a mixture of pain, resignation, and oddly humor, in his voice.

Her fists pummeling at his chest draw out whatever little reserved laughter he has in his throat. "Sick!" she gasps out, "when you`re sick!" her indignation only earns her another chuckle though. "Alright, alright. Wouldn't want to anger Nurse Everdeen." he whispers as he swoops down to steal a kiss from her lips.

"Idiot." she bites back, but nevertheless allows him to spoon her in his arms. It is only when warm gentle puffs of breath start tickling her ear and she knows he`s finally asleep does she allow herself to quietly say it:

"You`re not terminally sick. You`re just sick Peeta. And we`ll get you better. I`ll take care of you"

This she says, her eyes trained on the piles of blood soaked tissues that lay hidden under the dark corner of her boudoir.

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He`s had a steady stream of well wishers ever since word got out in the District that Peeta Mellark has been feeling a little bit under the weather. Her mother had called, as well as Annie and Beattie. Delly had dropped by with a basket of freshly picked strawberries with a short note that she wishes he`d start baking strawberry shortcakes again. There was Paylor, and the prep team…

Gale is now sitting in her living room.

"Katniss, I flew to 12 as soon as I heard what happened."

His face is warm, concerned and yet… _unfamiliar_. She places this thought as she mentally counts down the number of years she hasn't seen Gale Hawethorne—three. It`s been three years since the rebellion.

"Thanks. They say Peeta`s doing better now. His medications are really working, plus the medical team working on his recovery is brilliant."

"And you`re the one caring for him?"

"Yes." A solid answer. Secure, Finite… Resolved.

"Why?" Disbelief. Pity… Jealousy?

"Why not?"

With this, he sighs. "Katniss, taking care of him is not your obligation. You can let the Capitol take care of him. You have your own life to live. You can go to wherever district you like. "_With me._

When blood drains from her face and all is left is steely determination and blind faith in her hard gaze, instantly, he realizes it had been the wrong words to say.

He doesn't bother to wait for her to drive him away. He shows himself to her door.

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She`s convinced that she`s seen a lot of things in her day. Reapings, Hunger Games, rebellions. She`s almost too sure that nothing can surprise her now.

Oddly enough, one afternoon, she finds a drunken Haymitch sliding her a velveteen box with a diamond encrusted ring inside and she realizes that this is the most unexpected of it all yet.

"Are you…" she stops and her fingers find her temples. "Are you proposing to me?" To say that a mashed out Haymitch Abernathy has mortified a particular Katniss Everdeen beyond reason is an understatement.

He chortles on the rhum bottle he`s carrying and guffaws disgustingly enough for his spit to land on her face. "Why, would you say yes sweetheart?" Again the annoying guffaw and she finds her fingers itching for a knife.

"What`s this then?" Eyeing the velvet box warily, it`s her turn to choke with his slurred reply.

"Belongs to loverboy sweetheart—he was going on about guilt, and love and death and all that selfless shit he`s so known for."

"And the ring?" she croaks.

"Twas supposed to be for yah. Wanted to propose, but ever since he`s gotten down with that little flu from the trackers, he thinks he doesn't want to burden you with his sorry ass. Wanted me to give the ring to you when you know, he`s kicked the bucket." He pauses, as if for an afterthought. "I dunno. Maybe you could wear it on a necklace after, Kids do that these days, don't they?"

And this is all it takes for her palm to land squarely on his cheek.

"Out." She hisses. And he`s got no choice but to stumble out for her door when she throws a knife at him and nicks him on the arm.

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He`s sketching quietly by the kitchen table when she barges inside the room.

"What`s this?" She angrily slams the velvet box in front of him, her grey irises boring at his azure ones, demanding, challenging.

He visibly gulps, and had this been any lighter situation, she would have snickered at the thought that Peeta Mellark, a survivor of two Hunger Games, a fighter, a rebel and the other face of the revolution—is obviously scared of Katniss Everdeen.

"Katniss, you and I both know it`s a ring." he answers dejectedly. He moves to get hold of the box, but her hand grabs it in an instant. "I shouldn't have entrusted Haymitch with it in the firs place…" he mutters under his breath. "Should have given it to Sae and asked—"

"You should have given it to me."

He cocks an eyebrow. "So you`ve had a complete beer-and tell one-to-one interview with Haymitch then?" Another sigh leaves his lips as he stands up and collects his sketchpad. "Then there`s no point in me explaining. You know why it hasn't been given to you."

She has to block all thoughts of violence in her head as she grits her teeth in reply. "I know why it hasn't been given to me, I just don't understand why." And she really doesn't, not for any sorry bit of it.

"Katniss, I`m sick and you`re not."

"And what connection does it have with any of this?" She demands angrily.

"Everything!" He snaps and she is visibly taken aback because Peeta Mellark never _really_ snaps and she`s surprised when he does. "I don't want to force you into taking care of me, I don't want to be a burden. I am my own responsibility!"

His tears are mirrored in her eyes when she answers defiantly. "You`re never a burden! You never were, and never will be!"

His next words still her. "Taking care of me is not your obligation. You have your own life to live ahead of you."

He is shaking, and she is shaking, and at that moment, all she is thinking is how the odds are never in their favour. At least not in hers.

"You heard him."

"Yes."

"Do you believe in what he said?"

His answer is heartbreaking. "Yes."

And for the second time that day, she finds her palm connecting against a cheek. Has slapping become her new violent outlet? Dr. Aurelius would not be happy.

"Not allowed!" she cries, "You`re not allowed to be that selfless! You`re not allowed to think of others when you`ve got so much on your plate! You have to let me take care of you, because I want to, and if I cant I don't know what else to do because taking care of each other is what we do! And-" she grabs his hand and stuffs the velvet box in his hold,

"You`re going to have to give me the ring yourself! Because you`re not getting rid of me anytime soon!" Her gaze is smoldering heat as she stomps away from the kitchen and slams their bedroom door shut.

It takes him a moment to get his bearings, but when her words click to him, a small smile lights his lips. As he climbs the flight of stairs leading to their room, only one reel of thought is playing in his head:

_Katniss Everdeen, the girl I`ve loved even before I`ve learned the knead dough, has just inadvertently asked me to propose to her_.

He is grinning when he stands in front of her closet and pulls the handles open.

"Katniss," he pauses, as he drinks in her image; haunched and sandwiched between winter blankets, arms wrapped around her shaking knees, tears clinging on to the lashes of her eyes, wide with surprise and vulnerability.

For a moment either of them stay deathly still, until…

"Am I allowed to… to kiss you now?"

It's a question unexpected but never unwelcomed. So although it takes several heartbeats for her to respond, finally, her head dips forward in assent and he leans forward, his hands on the wooden planks of the closet and her still stubbornly _inside_ the closet. When his lips touches hers, she sighs, and inwardly, she is thinking about how ridiculous they look, the boy with the bread standing in front of a closet in a moonlit room, and the Mockingjay, sitting inside said closet, arms crossed, but face tilted…and both of them… _kissing._

It`s not the stereotypical scene for a Happy ever after ending, but with both of them so broken and so irreparably damaged, she knows she`ll take it.

To Be Continued.


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